Yeah, you are certainly going to need some stills for this thread.
I just watched Ashes of Time again tonight which has memory as an explicit theme and is shot as a very expressionistic dream. In Ashes WKW uses patterns of shadows and reflections to build this dream of the pain of loss in a loose open style. ITMFL takes the opposite tack and is composed of series of carefully composed frames within frames that makes it tight and closed.
But yes, memory is an important theme throughout WKWs works. ITMFL does feel like a wistful recollection.
Being one of the ones who don’t think much of this film (I’ve only seen it once and it was maybe 2 or 3 years ago), your argument for the film makes me want to revisit this film. Specifically this:
“There’s another point I want to make about the filmmaking. My feeling is that one of the film’s objectives is to give the film the quality of a memory or a dream. "
I like the idea of this for film and I’ve said this before about another filmmaker. For the life of me I can’t remember who it was but this notion of making a film that is a collection of brief snapshots to make it feel like a dream and not a strong, cohesive narrative that most films have. Hopefully someone will mention other filmmakers who do this because right now I’m drawing a blank. But I think when done right, this kind of filmmaking can be quite moving and effective.
@DBL
Your post makes me want to re-watch Ashes of Time. I recall the film had an expressionistic style, but I never considered the possibility that it was shot as if it were a memory. (Btw, did you see the original or redux version? I have the redux version, but I’ve never seen the original.)
Btw, do you or anyone else know the best way to get stills or even video excerpts from the film?
@Santino
The film uses techniques from Resnais’ Last Year at Marienbad and it even makes me think of a Lynch film (e.g. Mullholland Drive). I’m sure there are others, too, but those are two that came to mind.
What is interesting is that the transitions between “snapshots” are really seamless, so in a way, it feels like a narrative moving chronologically. (There are one or two scenes that might not be arranged chronologically. If you or anyone else notices this, let me know.)
I would also like to point out the special skill and sensitivity a director has to have to pull this type of film off—because he’s omitting a lot of details, and focusing on a few—so he has to not only know which moments are crucial, but he also has to assemble this into a coherent and compelling whole—something that I think he does.
Needless to say, I think you should watch this again—if nothing else, I think you’ll appreciate the filmmaking (the cinematography, direction and even the acting—which is quite wonderful, but not in an obvious way).
It’s good, but 2046 is sooooo much better.
Redux. I only saw the original once and that was on a very low quality disk. No, I wouldn’t say that Ashes is shot as a memory. It is a dreamscape, and is about longing to escape memory because the past cannot be reclaimed.
I’ll put *ITMFL*at the top of my queue. See if this thread is still going when I watch it.
You should also consider the music since WKW is so careful about it. Yo-Yo Ma’s cello is an important part of the experience of Ashes. Likewise, I think the songs in ITMFL play a key role.
@DBL
You should also consider the music since WKW is so careful about it. Yo-Yo Ma’s cello is an important part of the experience of Ashes. Likewise, I think the songs in ITMFL play a key role.
I forgot to mention that, but you’re absolutely right. I spoke about a “reductionist and restrained” approach, but I think the music might be an exception to that. One could argue that the instrumental piece (taken from another movie) that the film plays repeatedly isn’t so subtle and a little thick with emotion. The Nat King Cole numbers are also a little melodramatic (I wouldn’t call NKC subtle or restrainted at least when it comes to conveying romantic feelings.)
Nevertheless, I love the instrumental piece that the film uses (not so much the NKC ones), and the way it works with the visuals. However, I wonder what the film would be like if the music wasn’t so palpably emotional—especially in terms of longing and loneliness—if the music were more subtle. Maybe the scenes wouldn’t work so much? (On a side note, Wong really likes to repeat—almost incessantly—short pieces of music in his films. I haven’t really thought about the effect of this or if there is a larger meaning or purpose. I’d be interested in any thoughts on this, especially as it pertains to this film.)
(Btw, I should take a look at all the lyrics. If anyone wants to comment on the lyrics, please do so.)
I hope you do get to watch this film and join in later!
(Oh, thanks for your comments on Ashes Redux, particularly the line about wanting to escape memory. I’ll definitely keep that in mind when I re-watch the film. Btw, there’s a thread on the film, if you’re interested.)
Jazz, I don’t think I could say it better. In The Mood for Love is one of my all-time favorites, but I always trip over myself when trying to describe it.
It’s funny, because it’s one of the most romantic films I’ve seen, but it’s really kind of an anti-romance. Not in the sense that these people hate each other, but in the sense that they are actively righting against the romance. But the cinematography is so gorgeous, and the lighting and compositions are used to romanticize just about everything in the film. And that score helps in so many ways. I know that the main theme was taken from some other film, but I can’t help but associate it with this one, because of how strikingly it’s used and how important it is in expressing the themes of the film. I actually got reprimanded in a film studies class for writing a whole paper about the sound of ITMFL that ended up being just about the score.
The other thing I love about In The Mood for Love is that it feels like it’s comprised almost entirely of scenes that happen outside of the main narrative of a typical story. Not just that a more typical film would be about the spouses carrying on the actual affair, but that even in a more typical film about the spouses of the adulterers these would be the scenes that were left out. Any other film would at least feature the adulterers in some way, but here they’re just voices on the phone – we never even see them. I like your word “reductionism” (even if it isn’t really a word) in relation to this film. It does feel like the right word to describe it.
I feel like the biggest argument against In The Mood for Love is that it’s mostly style over substance, but I frankly think that’s bullshit. In this film the style adds to the substance, heightens it and makes it more palpable. It’s used in a way to make the audience feel what these characters feel, to put us in their shoes. And it does so very well.
“What is interesting is that the transitions between “snapshots” are really seamless, so in a way, it feels like a narrative moving chronologically.”
Yeah, I guess Marienbad falls into the same category (another movie I had trouble with). But like said, In the Mood For Love appears to have more of a narrative while Marienbad is pretty overt in being a mindfuck. Maybe this is why I had more trouble with In the Mood for Love, where I was expecting a more conventional story and so that is what I was searching for (which is a mistake since it’s not there). With Marienbad however, I knew from the get-go that this was not going to be a conventional exercise in storytelling.
Once upon a time there was a director and his drunk cinematographer who burned super novae for three spectacular films before self-destructing. These three films were Chungking Express, Fallen Angels and Happy Together (the last one destroyed them). In the Mood for Love is a ghost-in-mourning: a vague outlined shell of real life past remembered. It’s a funeral where the survivors can feel good about themselves.
@Dan
I actually got reprimanded in a film studies class for writing a whole paper about the sound of ITMFL that ended up being just about the score.
Well, I’d be interested in hearing your insights and thoughts on this. How’d you like the Nat King Cole numbers? (I didn’t care for them too much, but they weren’t a problem, either.)
The other thing I love about In The Mood for Love is that it feels like it’s comprised almost entirely of scenes that happen outside of the main narrative of a typical story. Not just that a more typical film would be about the spouses carrying on the actual affair, but that even in a more typical film about the spouses of the adulterers these would be the scenes that were left out.
Yes, absolutely, and I’m glad you mentioned this! And, yes, this is partly what I mean by “reductionism.” The film eliminates or reduces the dramatic, “juicier” parts of the story and focuses on the more mundane, and “quieter” moments—but in a counter-intuitive way, this makes the film more powerful and interesting. The approach is fascinating alone, but, in this case, it also happens to be very effective. (Btw, I think other films in the CCC movement employ a similar approach, and while this film doesn’t have long static shots, it has some similarities to those films. It might be a kind of precursor to CCC.)
@Santino
Yeah, I guess Marienbad falls into the same category (another movie I had trouble with).But like said, In the Mood For Love appears to have more of a narrative while Marienbad is pretty overt in being a mindfuck.
Right, they are very different films, but both use techniques that involve the way viewers’ sense of time in film.
There isn’t much I can say about it, other than how serene and beautiful and sad this film is. The amount of workmanship that went into it is just incredible but it’s so subtle and effortless. It really deserves all the acclaim. I’ve seen it only once but quite liked it.
l haven’t seen any other films by Wong Kar-Wai, though/
My only problem with it is how quickly it moves during the last 20 or 30 minutes. It’s a shame because it breaks the almost hypnotic spell the film had carefully cultivated for the bulk of its running time.
I like “In the Mood for Love” but I think “2046”, its pseudo-sequel is even better. I am not the biggest Wong Kar-Wai fan but to me that is his masterpiece and, in many ways, the culmination of everything he had been trying to do up until that point.
@Freddie
I haven’t seen any other films by Wong Kar-Wai, though/
I’ve seen almost all his films, and my personal feeling is that this one might be his best. However, his other films are worth checking out. However, if you don’t watch any of his other films, I would highly recommend seeing 2046 and Days of Being Wild at some point, since you like ITMFL so much.
@Hell
My only problem with it is how quickly it moves during the last 20 or 30 minutes. It’s a shame because it breaks the almost hypnotic spell the film had carefully cultivated for the bulk of its running time.
Maybe the ending is a tad rushed, but I suspect the ending isn’t as satisfying because it takes us out of the world (the familar apartments, streets) of these characters and their moments and rhythms of being together. Plus, there’s quite a bit of space and time that the film travels through at that point (which is radically different from what preceded it). I’m also not sure about some of the scenes and the way Wong handles them. For example, what was the deal with the news footage of De Gaulle visiting Cambodia? I have no idea how that fits within the context of the film.
On another note (and I’ll address this to everyone): is the chronology of some of the Singporean scenes off—specifically the scene with Chow frantically looking for something in his apartment. Later, we see Su Lizhen in Chow’s aparment and when she leaves she seems to take the red house slippers (presumably belonging to Chow’s wife and one Su would wear at Chow’s apartment. Is that right?). My sense was that this is what Chow was frantically looking—but the film shows this search prior to the scene of Su in his apartment. So I’m no sure what’s going on.
The fact that the years spent apart from each other seem rushed and unsatisfying may well have been the point of the film. I just felt they broke the spell unnecessarily (a problem I have with many of WKW’s films but something which does not happen in “2046”).
De Gaulle visited Cambodia when it was all but lost to France. There may be some parallels to Chow and a refrence to the folly of living in the past in there somewhere. Then again, he seems to like using news footage and radio broadcasts of real world events to frame his films within a specific time period so it could simply have been a way to mark the passage of time without stating it outright.
I haven’t seen the film in far too long to remember the specifics about the chronology. I’d have to watch it again, which I have been meaning to do, and just might.
Jazz, I’ll have to look for that paper to remind myself what exactly I said. I didn’t write about the Nat King Cole songs much, except that I loved the use of “Quizas…” which translates into English as “Perhaps…” It adds to the feeling of yearning and the will they/won’t they aspect of the film, and vocalizes the feelings of the main characters very well. It was mostly about the instrumental pieces, though, and about how the main theme is very tight musically (like those gorgeous cheongsam dresses) but at the very end, it becomes this very free piece, with none of the strictness of the prior theme. It fits really well with the idea behind that last scene, and to the big open spaces of Cambodia as opposed to the very enclosed, tight spaces of Hong Kong.
@Hell
The fact that the years spent apart from each other seem rushed and unsatisfying may well have been the point of the film. I just felt they broke the spell unnecessarily…
I can understand what you’re saying.
@Dan
It was mostly about the instrumental pieces, though, and about how the main theme is very tight musically (like those gorgeous cheongsam dresses) but at the very end, it becomes this very free piece, with none of the strictness of the prior theme. It fits really well with the idea behind that last scene, and to the big open spaces of Cambodia as opposed to the very enclosed, tight spaces of Hong Kong.
Nice.
How many different instrumental pieces of music does Wong use in the film? To me, that one piece from the Japanese film seems to be used the most and then there’s a different one at the end. (I don’t think I’ve noticed others.)
Jazz, looking again at your OP, I agree that ITMFL does eschew many of the traditional elements you would expect from this subject matter. But I think your term “reductionist” points off in the wrong direction. The film is very complexly structured, so it is not at all minimalist. Nor does it distill out some sort of purified essence that might be another sense of “reduction”.
Instead, I would suggest looking at as a foreground/background reversal—it is built out of the negative space of the traditional sort of film. So we barely see any sign of the adulterous couple. This narrowness of our view is further constrained in ways that don’t simplify but instead add complexity. So we have the “frames within a frame” and even mirrors within mirrors. We often don’t even see our protagonists interact directly but instead framed by their roleplaying of their spouses’ affair.
@DBL
The film is very complexly structured, so it is not at all minimalist.
You mean in terms of the compositions and camera work? I agree that this aspect of the film is highly stylish, if not complex.
Nor does it distill out some sort of purified essence that might be another sense of “reduction”.
I think the film is “reductionist” in the sense that the narrative is stripped away, and I do think there is a kind of distillation towards the essence—specifically the feeling and emotions of the characters and the situation they’re in. In other words, it’s not the drama structure or acting; nor is it more flamboyant displays of passion. The film eschews these things in order to get to the feelings behind this—not just love, but loneliness and longing. I think because the narrative is simple and not dramatic, and we don’t see very dramatic scenes or overtly sexual or romantic gestures, the feelings are contained and intensified—not just in the characters but maybe in the viewers as well; the film doesn’t give the viewers a release of these emotions—and in that way we experience these feelings in a more concentrated way. (Hmm, this all sounds good, but I’m not sure if what I’m saying is valid. I’m sort of struggling to get to what I’m trying to say.)
This may not be strictly reductionist, but I think “restained” would describe what “reductionist” leaves out.
Instead, I would suggest looking at as a foreground/background reversal—it is built out of the negative space of the traditional sort of film. So we barely see any sign of the adulterous couple. This narrowness of our view is further constrained in ways that don’t simplify but instead add complexity. So we have the “frames within a frame” and even mirrors within mirrors. We often don’t even see our protagonists interact directly but instead framed by their roleplaying of their spouses’ affair.
I’d like to hear you go into some of this more. By “negative space,” do you mean that the film focuses on scenes that would be minor or transitional (to “bigger” moments)? If so I agree with you—and it’s one of the things I like about the film.
I agree the narrowness of our view (if I understand what you mean) adds complexity—at least in terms of the characters and their feelings. But I don’t think this one feature negates the appropriateness of the word, “reductionism.” (But I’m willing to hear you out.)
I’d like to hear more of what you mean by “mirrors within mirrors,” etc.
I mean “mirrors within mirrors” literally. How are you coming with those cut and paste skills? Have a look at the 47 minute mark where they are trapped in Chow’s room during the mahjong game. We see Su directly and Chow reflected in a mirror and further reflected in a second mirror. The mirrors here also tie into the scene in Room 2046 where there is another wonderfully composed shot with the vanity mirror that creates multiple images of each of them.
I know which scenes you’re talking about and I love them—especially the one in room 2046. (It’s one I’d like a video clip for. I think the cut-and-paste skills are fine. I just need to find time to comb through the film and get the stills I want.)
But did you bring this up as examples for the complex filmmaking or because they offer a larger meaning or significance? I understand and agree if you meant the former, but I’m not sure what the larger meaning is of the mirror scenes. (There’s also the use of blurred reflection of Su Lizhen crying in the shower.)
I mean negative space in the sense used in art and architecture, or even in the Rubin vase optical illusion. So we see our characters at several levels of remove and reflected and inverted as in, for instance, the roleplaying. We get access to the narrative and even emotional issues mostly though these indirect means.
OK negative space=roleplaying. (I think negative space in architecture is a bit different, though.) Got it. Was there any other manifestation of this? (And do you think the “reductionist” descriptor is misleading because of the use of “negative space?”)
That’s not quite right. I was thinking of a more direct analogy with negative space. Our larger understanding is formed out of both the bits we see and the vast amount that we don’t see but that is defined by what we do see. So there is the roleplaying and there are the one sided phone calls. We also learn about our characters attitudes to infidelity by watching Su interact with her boss and Chow interact with Ping. In this same vein, I think one purpose of those final scenes is to let us reflect back on their time together. Some films would do this in the positive space of a flashback while this film has us recreate that ourselves as a negative space carved out by what we do see.
So yes, I do think that “reductionist” misses this characteristic of how the film works.
Oh, and if I can get you to buy into this concept of negative space, then a fundamental negative space is the counterfactual “what would Su Lizhen and Chow’s relationship have been if they had been the adulterous pair instead of their spouses?”
I pretty much agree with what you wrote. But I’m not sure if what you’re saying (or I’m not sure how this occurs) is antithetical to a “reductionist” concept—which to me means stripping away, both to get a more concentrated feeling or essence, but also to stripping away story and to some extent conventions of these films—e.g., the emphasis on the mundane, not the dramatic.
I want to describe what you’re saying as an indirect approach of the film; we get to know the characters and their relationship via other characters and situations (like the ones you mentioned); we get to know them with images and music (many of the dialogue free scenes); and at times we get to know them by suggestion and use of our imagination. With the latter, I’m thinking of many scenes where the film shows something other than the actor’s faces (smoke drifting in the air; the waistline of the characters, feet, etc.) or scenes with the camera pulled from the actors (e.g. when Su says good bye to Chow at the hotel room, we see them from the other end of the hallway).
But do you think this approach is antithetical to the reductionist and restrained one that I mentioned? Moreover, you don’t the film does strip away and reduce elements of the narrative, dramatic moments, physical gestures and even gets to the essence of feeling?
ITMFL is an opera in which the wallpaper sings the arias.
@Jazzaloha: The slipper thing? They’re her slippers. She left them in Chow’s room when they got stuck in during the mahjong game. She left with his wife’s shoes. He keeps the slippers. She takes them back. There’s a whole game of objects (standing in for persons) going back and forth – handbags, ties, scarves, rice cookers, slippers, newspapers, books. Tony Leung hugs a rice cooker – who’d have thought such an object could represent frustrated desire.
@M Klein
There’s a whole game of objects (standing in for persons) going back and forth – handbags, ties, scarves, rice cookers, slippers, newspapers, books. Tony Leung hugs a rice cooker – who’d have thought such an object could represent frustrated desire.
Great observation (although I don’t remember Chow hugging the rice cooker)! Although I feel a little foolish as I didn’t notice these details—and I here I am claiming to help others see what makes this film great! But I really appreciate the insight (especially the objects standing in for persons bit). I thought the film used objects to represent feelings or moods, but not the characters (which I should have). I’ll definitely pay attention to this the next time I see this.
With the slippers, I thought they were Chow’s wife’s because why would Su wear her house slippers to his place? Then again, why would Su wear his wife’s slippers at his place? Well, the latter seems to make a little more sense than the former; plus, it sort of fits in with the earlier “role playing” scene.
So let me ask others. When Chow goes to Singapore and he’s frantically looking for something, is he looking for the slippers that Su takes? If so, the film shows these scenes out of chronological order. The film shows the frantic search followed later by Su taking the slippers with her.
I want to also go back to the role playing scene. At the risk of further weakening my credibility, how long do they actually take the role of their spouses? At first, I thought that this only happened when they’re eating a Western style dinner—and in that scene they’re sort of conscious that they’re role playing. In other words, the film presents the characters are role playing—moving in and out of the roles to their real selves.
On the other hand, in the “first move” scene, I know wonder if the film meant to present the characters as if they were the actual spouses The after the Western dinner when they’re riding in the taxi, Su asks how come he doesn’t call and huffily says to never call again. Chow tries to reach for her hand, but she rebuffs the move. Here I’m wondering if they’re supposed to be the spouses—and not role playing. (I’m thinking it might not be the actual characters because I’m thinking Chow wouldn’t try to hold her hand.)
So in a way, some of these scenes (when they’re actually supposed to be their spouses—if my theory is correct) are sort of like fantasy/dream sequences—ones that the characters are imagining. (Prior to the “first move” scene, Su or Chow asks, “I wonder how it started?”—which might be a cue for the dream sequence.)
I’m glad M Klein brought up those objects since they are an important part of what is going in the film.
Let’s start with clearing up the images here. The scene of Chow with the rice cooker is when Su is listening to the radio and her husband has called in to have a song played for her birthday. The camera tracks through the wall and on the other side Chow is holding the cooker in his lap as if he is eating the last rice from the bottom of the pan, but then he doesn’t move and just sits there listening to the song coming through the wall. The tracking shot echoes the shot we talked about above in Room 2046 where the camera tracks bath and forth showing Su and Chow in the three part vanity mirror.
The slippers must be Su’s. We see her wearing them earlier in Chow’s room as they are getting comfortable spending time with each other when everyone else is away. After the mahjong game, she needs to borrow a pair of Chow’s wife’s street shoes so that she can go back to her own room and pretend that she is just getting home from work. But the borrowed shoes are much too small for her so she hobbles down the hall and, when she is safe in her own room, quickly takes them off and rubs her feet. Chow keeps her slippers and takes them to Singapore. And yes, we see the Singapore scenes out of temporal order. We see Chow find her cigarette and discover the slippers are missing before we see Su smoke it and take the slippers. (Or we almost see this as the scene ends just before she picks them up.) Earlier in the film, we also saw the two briefly in Room 2046 before we even learn that Chow plans on getting a room. So there are some time jumps.
I wouldn’t say that the objects are quite “stand ins” for people, since I think they get invested with sentiments and history in their own right distinct from the individual they are associated with. In the first conversation that Su and Chow have about their spouses’ affair, they talk about the ties and handbags. We have already seen how both objects are used in duplicate gifts to a spouse and a lover and are thus emblems of the infidelities (including Su’s boss’s).
Jazz, much of the conversation we see between Su and Chow is roleplaying. The first time they talk about their spouses, they both already know there is an affair. But they start talking about the bags and ties on the pretense that they want to buy such objects for gifts before admitting that they objects are actually evidence of what is going on. From that first polite pretense, they launch into the role playing and we see this several times in multiple places: they explore how their spouses met and who made the first move, how they would behave out on a date, and how they hide their relationship from the people they live with. Importantly, they role play Su confronting her husband (this scene is in Room 2046). Finally, they role play Chow leaving for Singapore. I’d add that since much of their time together is spent writing martial arts stories, they are in a way role playing there too.
On repeated viewings, this separates out coherently, but I think the role playing is intended to disorient the viewer a little on first viewing leaving us a bit unsure of when they are pretending and when they are being themselves. So much of their interaction is mediated in these ways, I thing they are themselves somewhat disoriented about who they really are, what they really value, and what they want. I’m resisting your idea that we should take any of this as a somewhat conventional “fantasy/dream sequence”. I think that sort of device is exactly one of those traditional elements that this film eschews.
Jazzaloha
I’m in the process of watching and, in some cases re-watching, great films of the 2000s (according to a few lists). ITMFL appears quite high (1 or 2) on one or two these lists, and so I’ve been curious about what I’d think after seeing this again. Well, after watching the film and having a good discussion with Jirin, I think the high ranking is justified (I think a lot more highly of the film compared to when I first saw it.)
I want to respond to some of the people who don’t think so highly about the film and make a case for why I believe it is one of the great films of the decade—and maybe among the all-time great films. At the same time, I hope to discuss certain unanswered questions I had of the film.
First, the film’s value doesn’t lie in the quality of the story or the ideas. Instead, the film is great for the way it expresses it’s “story”—which involves two characters falling in love, but, for a variety of reasons, never consummating their love. So the film is basically a kind of romantic tragedy, not unlike Brief Encounter—or better yet, Remains of the Day, but a more cinematic or poetic expression of those stories, rather than a novelistic one.
This expression is the basis for the film’s greatness—which I found original, emotional and skillfully done—so much so that I’d consider it one of the best romantic films of all time. Anyway, most of my arguments will center on this expression or the filmmaking. To me, reductionism* and restraint are the two key concepts underlying the filmmaking. By “reductionism” I mean the idea and approach that by reducing aspects of the film—the story, the drama, acting, etc.—one can evoke beauty and strong emotions. Many films build to dramatic moments or crescendos, but a reductionist approach does almost the opposite approach—eschewing “big,” “loud” or dramatic qualities and centering on “smaller,” “quieter,”—even more mundane—elements to move and communicate with viewers. As for “restraint,” I mean it in the conventional way and it is similar to reductionism. Restraint refers to attempt to express nuance and subtlety over bold gestures or big dramatic moments. (My hope is cut-and-paste images or video clips from the film and provide commentary to make these points. We’ll see.)
There’s another point I want to make about the filmmaking. My feeling is that one of the film’s objectives is to give the film the quality of a memory or a dream. The viewer isn’t watching the events so much as a memory and dream of the events—and the film succeeds magnificently at creating this effect—which is terrific because this is a story about lost love and this evanescent quality of the film works to support this film.
I’ll leave it there for now, with the intention and hope that I can mention specific scenes later on.
(*Note: I’m not sure if “reductionism” is a word, but I like it more than “reductive” which has a negative connotation. “Reduction” doesn’t quite capture the spirit or attitude that the term, “reductionism” seems to.)